No reply. "Miss Darling, what do you mean?" With a sudden fierce recklessness the girl turned and faced him. "I mean _that_--just that--what you did now, and a minute ago. The way you have of--of expecting everybody and everything to bend to your will and wishes. Oh, I know, it's silly and horrible and everything for me to say this. But you _made_ me do it. I told you it was impertinent! Don't you see? I'd have to have love and laughter and sympathy and interest and--and all that around me. I _couldn't_ be happy here. This house is like a tomb, and you--sometimes you are jolly and kind and--and _fine_. But I never know _how_ you're going to be. And I'd die if I had to worry and fret and fear all the time how you _were_ going to be! Mr. Denby, I--I couldn't live in such a place, and mother couldn't either. And I-- Oh, what have I said? But you made me do it, you made me do it!" For one long minute there was utter silence in the room. Burke Denby, at the library table, sat motionless, his hand shading his eyes. Betty, in her chair, wet her lips and swallowed convulsively. Her eyes were frightened--but her chin was high. Suddenly he stirred. His hand no longer shaded his face. Betty, to her amazement, saw that his lips were smiling, though his eyes, she knew, were moist. "Betty, my dear child, I thought before that I wanted you. I know now I've _got_ to have you." Betty, as if the smile were contagious, found her own lips twitching. "What--do you mean?" "I mean that your fearless little tirade was just what I needed, my dear. I _have_ expected everything and everybody to bend to my will and wishes. I suspect that's what's been the matter, too, all the way up. I thought once, long ago, I'd learned my lesson. But it seems I haven't. Here I am up to the same old tricks again. Will you come and--er--train me, Betty? I will promise to be very docile." Betty did laugh this time--and the tension snapped. "Train"--the very word with which she had shocked her mother weeks before! "Seriously, my dear,"--the man's face was very grave now,--"I want you to talk this thing over with your mother. I am a lonely old man--yes, old, in spite of the fact that I'm barely forty--I feel sixty! I want you, and I need you, and--notwithstanding your unflattering opinion of me, just expressed--I believe I can make you happy, and your mother, too. She shall have every comfort, and you shall have love and laughter and sympathy and interest, I promise you. Now, isn't your heart softening just a wee bit? _Won't_ you come?" "Why, of course, I--appreciate your kindness, Mr. Denby, and"--Betty drew a tremulous breath and looked wistfully into the man's pleading eyes--"it would be lovely for--mother, wouldn't it? She wouldn't have to worry any more, or--or--" Burke Denby lifted an imperative hand. His face lighted. He sprang to his feet and spoke with boyish enthusiasm.